


Always On the Run

by God0fMischief



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/M, Hate to Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:56:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God0fMischief/pseuds/God0fMischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes Gibbins is ready to run away from it all; The stress, the hatred, the lust, and, most of all, the murder. But how can he get away when everyone is counting on him - of all people - to keep it together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> This story slightly dabbles in an alternate universe perspective of things, but most of its elements take place after the last episode of Season Two. I plan to turn this into a real story with multiple chapters, but for now it is a one shot until further notice to meet the guidelines of a fan fiction challenge I'm doing with some friends! 
> 
> The titles of the story and chapters will be taken from songs or song lyrics. 'Always on the run' is from Whitney Houston's song "You Give Good Love", while Chapter One is taken from Luther Vandross' "Never Too Much". At times the chapters will have a direct relation to whatever song I have chosen, but this will not always be the case.
> 
> This particular chapter will be edited off and on until August 30, which is the deadline for the challenge I am participating in. So check back every now and then for updates!
> 
> Now that all of that is out of the way, I wanna say thanks for taking the time to read my story, and please click the 'Kudos' button if you liked the story and leave some feedback! I appreciate it! Happy reading :D

_4:35 AM_

 

A loud alarm clock cut through the unadulterated quiet of his shabby studio apartment, prompting him to press his pillow on top of his head in an effort to diffuse the noise. Each second the sound got louder and louder - it was time for school and another day working at the very useless Keating 5 headquarters. He groaned and forced himself to sit up on the edge of his bed, feet planted firmly on the hardwood below. A deep yawn traveled up his lungs as he pressed 'Dismiss' on his phone's screen; Immediately the noise stopped and calm was temporarily restored, but he still sighed.

  
He was still Wes Gibbins, the loner who stuck out like a sore thumb because of his tall frame; the kid who had gotten into Middleton University through Professor Keating's manipulation of the waiting list, essentially because of her guilt for Wes' poor mother.

  
And he was still a murderer.

  
Wes stood up and pulled his sweaty shirt over his head, and walked over to the only window in the room. Judging by the predominant orange glow of the streetlights, it was going to be a while before sunrise. He sighed one more time and grabbed a black button down shirt, a pair of boxers, socks, and jeans, and headed to the small bathroom. If he was going to deal with his classmates and their repetitive bickering then a long, relaxing shower was in store.

  
By the time he was done showering and brushing his teeth, the sky was a crisp and clear blue, and birds were chirping in the trees nearby. He made a cursory glance at his reflection in the mirror and sprayed on some Axe cologne before grabbing his cellphone from the nightstand and shrugging on a snug black blazer.

  
Just then his cellphone began to vibrate in his hand; it was a message from his classmate, Michaela Pratt. Instead of tapping the notification to open the message, he rolled his eyes and stuffed the phone into his pants pocket before picking up his bike. He was far from ready for Michaela's know-it-all attitude.

 

_6:20 AM_

 

Just as Wes pulled up to the biking lane across the street from Professor Annalise Keating's house, Laurel Castillo opened the door and stepped out. Even from this distance he could see she was upset.

  
Today marked the fourth day since Frank disappeared.

  
He flashed a small smile her way when she looked up to see who was approaching the house, hoping that today Laurel would be his friend instead of Annalise's second assistant. From time to time Annalise would employ Laurel to watch and report on Wes' moods and day to day activities to ease her own mind. He understood Laurel was just trying to be a good friend, but sometimes...

  
"How are you holding up?" he asked his friend as they embraced. He bent down to tie his bike to a fence post attached to the porch. Instead of answering immediately, Laurel looked away and took a deep breath.

"I'm..I'm managing."

  
Wes nodded. That was all that needed to be said. He understood what heartache was like.

  
They both walked slowly up to the front door and stopped, immediately becoming unnerved and tense at the shouting bleeding through the window. It was Connor shouting, and if Connor was shouting Michaela or Annalise wouldn't be too far behind.

  
Laurel looked up at her friend with a pained smile on her face. "You sure you want to go in there? I can tell them you're not feeling well."

  
"No," he said, slowly turning the front door's handle. "If you tell them I'm unwell, they'll freak out again and make things worse."

  
He walked in slowly, Laurel only a second behind her friend, the two of them mentally bracing for the chaos ensuing inside.


	2. Live and Sigh, Crying Eyes

_6:37 AM_

 

Wes Gibbins and Laurel Castillo took deep breaths to calm their nerves before walking through the door to Annalise Keating's living room. The raised voices of Michaela Pratt and Conner Walsh greeted them, causing Wes to clench his jaw. It was going to be a very long day.

"Look, little Miss Know-It-All, the guy's a skeez, there's no ifs, ands, or buts about it!" Connor exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

"Okay one - stop with the elementary school name calling - and two, you're judging him by his looks. He looks like a crook, but he's not. It's that simple." she replied, equally exasperated.

By this time, Wes and Laurel had already taken their seats on the couch. They were watching the duo battle it out with pained expressions on their faces. They both knew Connor had a thing for getting under Michaela's skin. None of this was unusual, but it definitely was not welcome.  
  
"No, Michaela, don't try to turn this on me. The guy is not honest, we can't trust him. We shouldn't be representing someone who is guilty." Connor just wouldn't let up. 

"Guilty or not," Professor Keating appeared in the doorway, taking off her black gloves and shoving them in her coat pocket, "we represent our client and get the charges dropped."

Annalise cut through the living and walked toward her office, stopping at the doorway to call over her shoulder. "And another thing, Mr. Walsh - he's innocent." She closed the door behind her, exhaling. Connor was a true handful.

"See?" Michaela said, a mischievous grin on her face.

Instead of firing back with more vitriol, Connor grabbed his jacket and left the house. Michaela had won, for now.

 

_10:50 AM_

By now the trio had been working for nearly five hours finding information and evidence to prove their client, Jeffrey William's, innocence in court. He was accused by his grandmother of stealing $500,000 dollars worth of jewelry she had stored in her basement. Jeffrey stood by his innocence, saying his grandmother was suffering from an early onset of dementia and a new gold-digging boyfriend. It was the Keating 5's job to work the case in his favor, but so far only Michaela, Laurel, and Wes were doing the time; Asher Millstone and Conner were no where to be found.

Suddenly Bonnie Winterbottom walked into the living room, cellphone held up to her ear.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on," she said, pressing the cellphone against her chest to block out the sound. "You guys can go home early. Annalise has some errands to run."

Bonnie made her way to the corridor, presumably going to the kitchen. Once she was out of sight, the group of college students stretched and yawned. It was going to be a hard case for the sole fact that Mrs. William, Jeffrey's grandmother, was not actually diagnosed with dementia or Alzheimer's yet. But Annalise Keating felt Jeffrey was telling the truth, and what Annalise said was law.

Laurel took a sip of water from a glass and looked over at the very exhausted Wes and Michaela. "Hey, you guys want to go out to eat?"

"Yes!" Michaela piped up, energy returning to her. She was starving, and nothing would get in her way of consuming a nice garden salad and iced tea.

Much to her detriment, Wes shook his head. "No thanks. I need some rest, a nap maybe."

"Well, we can still go, right Laurel?"

Laurel chuckled and nodded her head. "Yeah, let's go. See you later Wes."

He waved his hand at the two young ladies. He was not prepared to hang out with Michaela today.

Or any other day for that matter.

Wes yawned one more time and went outside to grab his bike, only one thing on his mind: his nice, comfortable bed at home.

 

_6:41 PM_

 

Wes was back at Annalise's house, knocking on the door. He had forgotten his jacket on the couch and needed it badly. The heater in his apartment had decided to break down on one of the coldest nights in Philadelphia.

No one answered. Just his luck.

Determined to get his belongings back, he tried the door handle, expecting it to be locked but it wasn't. Instead the door creaked open onto the dark hallway, no one in sight. Sounded like no one was home either. He looked back toward the driveway and realized the car in the driveway was not Annalise's . Maybe it was Nate's. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped inside, leaving the door ajar in an effort to make his coming and going faster.

He stepped into the living and saw not only his jacket, but Annalise Keating and she, of course was laying right beside it. Wes thanked the heavens that she was sound asleep; he was not in the mood to have any kind of conversation with his professor for anything in the world.

Wes leaned over her and gently moved the jacket from under her arm, hurriedly putting it on when it was free. Just as he was about to start walking to the front door, Annalise shifted causing him to freeze. He turned, fully expecting her to look at him with surprise, but instead she was still asleep.

Her facial expression had changed however; the still mask had transformed to that of pain and hurt. If she had been awake, he suspected she may have cried, but no tears escaped her closed lids. Annalise uttered only one word, over and over again, first under her breath but gradually getting louder, desperation and sadness coloring it.

"Christophe." She repeated, now with urgency. "Christophe!"

She was dreaming of Christophe. Dreaming of him.

He wanted desperately to know what the dream entailed, wanted to shake her awake and ask her just why she was calling his name like a mother with a broken heart, but he knew doing so would only make the rift wider and more obvious to them both.

He buttoned his jacket tighter around him, all the while trying to blink the tears out of his own eyes. The way she was calling his name..

He had to get out of there and fast before his own emotions erupted and provoked the forming tears to stain his cheeks. Without out a word or another glance back at his professor - his surrogate mother - he left.

Annalise Keating was just too much to handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title ripped from "You Push Me Away" by The Jackson 5. Reviews and feedback are much appreciated!! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.


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